


Orchids and Irises

by TimmyJaybird



Series: Anatomy of a Monster [6]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F, M/M, Mutilation, dark!Will, darker Beverly??, to be added as we progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-02-11 23:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2087124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months after A Fascination with Tongues, a sort of routine has found the lives of not only Will and Hannibal, but Alana and Beverly as well. That is, until Will and Alana accept the opportunity to guest lecture at Brown University for a week, and leave their lovers alone to deal not only with a killer who insists on leaving each of his victims behind a flower in parting, but also with the growing tension that perhaps there is something inside Beverly that sees and understands the transformation that Will has gone through- and wants it herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! It is so good to be back to my verse, I have missed it terribly. This fic is set up a bit differently than the past ones- we'll be focusing mainly on Hannibal and Beverly this time- although we will get bits of Will and Alana both. This fic should also set up for the next two to come in the series c:

“Call me if the dogs give you any problems,” Will said, staring directly into Hannibal’s eyes against the business of the airport. The doctor smiled, a playful kind, rubbing his hand along Will’s arm.

“I am sure they will give me no trouble, they do not normally.” Will huffed, reaching up the adjust his bag over his shoulder.

“You’ve never had to deal with them, alone, for a whole week.” Hannibal laughed, choosing the tug Will closer and kiss him, openly, to silence him. The brunet fell into it, as he always did, tilting his head slightly and giving the softest of whines when Hannibal pulled back. Beside him, he could feel warm eyes glancing at him- waiting, patiently for now, but he knew their time was limited. He had a plane to catch.

“Lay your worries to rest,” Hannibal whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “I believe I can handle the pack alone. Besides, if need be, perhaps I will call in assistance.” He glanced over at the woman standing by his side, and Beverly smiled.

“We’ll set up puppy play dates, since I’ll have Applesauce.” Alana laughed, in front of her, leaning in to kiss her cheek affectionately. Will nodded, glancing back to Hannibal and taking his hand, squeezing it as he gave him one last peck on the lips.

“I’ll see you in a week.” He pulled back, holding onto the doctor’s hand as long as he could, until he could no longer reach and he was forced to let go as he followed Alana off towards security.

*

Stepping into an empty house wasn’t uncommon for Hannibal, even now that he and Will had been living together for almost six months. There were many days he may arrive home sooner than his lover- or late enough that Will perhaps had fallen asleep already. But this felt almost different, the knowledge hanging in the air that the home was his, and his alone, for an entire week.

In the distance, he heard the dogs stirring. They had not come to greet him, and he would only assume they felt it too, the absence Will had left behind. He closed the door, locking it as was custom and hanging his coat up, toeing his shoes off. He unwound his scarf as he walked into the dark house, choosing to leave the lights off as he moved towards the living room. He found a few of them scattered on the floor, lazily, looking up at him but not even raising their heads. He left them in peace, heading for the kitchen to pour himself a glass of wine, not caring that it was only mid afternoon. He had canceled his appointments for the day to see Will off at the airport, and now he found himself with more time on his hands than he had prepared for.

It had been difficult to convince Will that he should accept the offer to guest lecture for a week at Brown University with Alana. He had not wanted to take the time away from his own teaching- especially considering the semester would be ending shortly after his return. He had not wanted to step away from the FBI, in case he was needed- still grasping at that feeling that he could save people, should save people.

Hannibal knew it was often a topic during his therapy sessions- not because Dr. Du Maurier had told him- but because Will himself had come home some nights and gone off on it. How he didn’t understand how it could be unhealthy, wanting to save. Hannibal had many times given his own explanation, but Will was far too worked up to see that it could eat him alive, the work he did, if he did not take moments to step back. And oh, Hannibal tried to force those moments on Will, had been making progress. Small steps, but steps to pull him away from the desperation that he needed to save everyone- the guilt Hannibal knew Will carried over those he had not.

Hannibal was simply thankful the guilt Will once felt over taking lives had melted away, washed down into the soil by a curiosity piqued inside the brunet- one that Hannibal could satisfy.

He poured his wine, made his way back to the living room, and turned on a small couch side lamp, settling down and pulling his tablet from the table to his lap. On the floor, Buster stood up, making his way over happily and making the leap up the couch- a leap he was by house rules not allowed to make, nor one Will wanted the little dog making for fear of his back. But, this time, Hannibal allowed it, as the little dog snuggled up to his side and rested his head on his thigh, eyes flicking from the movement on the screen as Hannibal scrolled through the news, and then back up to his face.

Hannibal sipped his wine, realizing he had been home for less than twenty minutes, and he was missing Will. The week, he was sure, was going to be torture.

*

Beverly dropped her keys in a bowl by the door- the _clank_ causing Applesauce to look up from her spot on the couch, and kicked her shoes off. She tossed her coat onto a hook, then made her way into Alana’s living room, dropping down on the couch and heaving a sigh, looking at the dog that was watching her.

“Guess it’s just you and me for a week girl.” She reached out, scratched the dog behind her ear, and looked up at the ceiling. An evening to herself felt strange- especially in Alana’s house. It seemed easier for her to watch Applesauce if she stayed here, rather than dragging her to her apartment, and Beverly couldn’t complain. She spent more nights here than in that apartment anyway.

Sometimes she wondered if maybe she should do as Will had- finally move in with her other half. The term had her laughing, and she stood up, walking out to the kitchen in search of a beer and some popcorn. If she was going to be stuck in all evening alone, she’d make a one-person party out of the ordeal.

*

Hannibal let the dogs out before bed, as was custom. He watched them romp around the cold ground- free of snow for the moment, but early December meant it could be white come dawn- and once they were securely inside and the large house locked up, made his way to the bedroom. He settled into his side, book in hand, cell phone gripped in the other, and wondered if Will had gotten settled properly. The man had texted him saying everything was fine, but he and Alana had both gone straight to meetings with staff and administration at the university to both discuss the planned lectures and go through the motions of proper social introductions, and he had been unavailable.

Hannibal glanced at the bedside clock, which read just after ten. It wasn’t late- had Will been home, they would most likely still be seated downstairs for another good hour- but Hannibal knew there was the chance Will had not yet finished with his obligations- obligations he was glad the brunet was taking upon himself, as it would be _rude_ to stay shut in his hotel room and not get to know those who had invited him to speak. He was sure Alana was helping in keeping Will occupied.

Setting his book aside, mind made up, he unlocked his phone and clicked on Will’s name, waiting as the phone rang a few times, before he heard the man’s voice.

_Hi, you’ve reached Will Graham. I’m currently unavailable, but if you would like me to return your call, leave me a message._

Hannibal took a breath as a _beep_ passed, and then spoke, focusing on keeping his voice calm. “I see you must still be preoccupied, dear Will. I do hope you are finding some enjoyment thus far. I am heading to bed and simply-“ he paused, and Hannibal knew if he said anything but the truth Will would read through it, the man so far inside him, in blood and marrow and nerves and thought that he knew every lie Hannibal breathed. Were it anyone but Will, it would be terrifying.

Even knowing it was Will, that they had been like this for some time, it was still terrifying.

“I simply wanted to hear your voice, beloved. I hope the night finds you well, and that I will hear from you tomorrow.” Hannibal ended the call, setting the phone aside and picking up his book, silently cursing himself for feeling as if someone was pulling thread loose from his skin, slowly tugging them in Will’s direction.

This was only the first night. How was he going to survive the week?

*

Beverly heard her phone ringing from where she had left it in the bedroom. She cursed around her toothbrush, thinking it would be Alana, and spit in the sink, hurrying across the hall half dressed and grabbing it from the nightstand without looking.

“Hello?”

“Well good morning sunshine!” She rolled her eyes, walking in bare feet over the plush carpet to the closet that had, somehow, become her own.

“Good morning Brian,” she huffed, pulling a shirt down, “Why are you calling me?”

“Can’t a guy call his friend and coworker and wish her a good morning?” Beverly slipped the shirt over one arm, then moved her phone, managing to get her other arm through the sleeve.

“No. Not you, you want something.” She heard him huff a sigh, then-

“The coffee machine might be busted at the lab. How nicely would I have to ask to convince you to get coffee?” Beverly rolled her eyes.

“You wouldn’t need to ask, I’m going to need it. Sleeping at Alana’s alone is weird- the house is too big for just me. Look, I’m almost ready to leave, I’ll pick some up on my way. You at the lab already?” There was a small grunt of acknowledgement. “Is Jack there?”

Brian hesitated, then, “No. Not yet.” Beverly said nothing, leaving her shirt unbuttoned to instead fold her one arm over her waist. With Bella’s condition growing worse and worse by the day, they all knew it was only a matter of _short_ time until she was gone. And any moment Jack was not in the lab filled Beverly with the uneasy feeling that, perhaps, the time had finally come.

“Okay, I’ll see you relatively soon.” She chose to say no more on the subject and ended the call, tossing her phone onto the bed and setting to buttoning her white shirt.

Her drive to the lab felt ordinary- she had left from Alana’s more often than her own apartment lately. She walked in, carrying a cardboard tray holding three cups of coffee, and found Brian and Jimmy both seated in the small room where the broken coffee maker sat.

“My savior,” Brian teased as she set it down and passed him a cup. Jimmy took one with a thankful nod, before Beverly worked her coat off, hanging it and her scarf up.

“Tell me you two weren’t just in here waiting for coffee?” She saw the paperwork on the table in front of them, knew they must have been at least lazily looking at the case file that had been sent over form Montana, but she couldn’t be sure they had been putting any thought into it.

“We were being productive,” Jimmy said, pushing the picture of a man hanging from his neck in an old barn towards her. “But it’s hard to stomach these things in the morning before coffee.” Beverly sat down, lifting her own cup and spinning the photo so she could see it clearly. They had been given the case the other day- a call for assistance from the local PD there who had no real leads on a barn found with dour bodies hanging from the rafters. Beverly was sure, if they flew out, and were given a day or two to properly process the scene, they could do some real damage. As it was, all they could do was throw suggestions at them- and she had missed a whole day of it, by taking Alana to the airport.

“Point taken. So what did I miss yesterday?” She sipped her coffee as Brian broke into a frustrated rant about the local PD that was handling the case, and how he’d like to teach them how you _really_ process and collect evidence. He was only part way in when the door opened and an exhausted looking Jack stepped inside, staring at them.

“I wasn’t aware this was a social club,” he said, turning and heading right for the coffee machine.

“Broken,” Jimmy called, taking a sip, and Jack stopped in his tracks, huffing bitterly and turning back around. He glared at Brian, his statement still standing, and the man shrugged a shoulder.

“I was just catching Beverly up to speed on what she missed yesterday.” He nodded, glancing at her.

“Did Alana’s flight go well?”

“Yeah. I haven’t talked to her, but she sent me a text last night. Said she and Will got to the hotel okay and were spending the evening doing the whole _social_ thing.”

“Oh I’m sure Will _loves_ that.” Brian snickered, and Beverly rolled her eyes, kicking him underneath the table.

“So long as he doesn’t decide to stay out there. We need his mind. Speaking of, pack up, we’re going to a scene.”

“Really?” Brian slammed the folder closed, grinning. “I’ll take anything over dealing with these hicks anymore.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Jack said, heading for the door as all three stood up, “It might be an easy close, and you’ll be right back with your _friends_ there, Zeller.”

*

Hannibal closed the door of his office after bidding his patient goodbye, heading back to his desk. Part way across the room, he heard his phone buzzing, and his strides increased. He had gotten a text from Will that morning, stating that he was up to give an early morning lecture, so he could give a joint one with Alana in the afternoon- but he had not gotten the call he hoped for.

“Hello?” he answered, once he reached it, not bothering to look at the screen.

“Hi Hannibal. Sorry to disappoint.” Hannibal’s smile lessened at the sound of Beverly’s voice, and he cursed himself that his excitement was so tangible. “Am I interrupting?”

“No, I just had a patient leave. What can I do for you?” He settled on the corner of his desk, his free hand working open the jacket to his suit.

“Well, I’m at a scene actually. Jack got a call from the cops a little while ago, and he thought it might be pretty dull but...well, I’d like an opinion, and I was wondering if yours was available for the taking?”

Hannibal pursed his lips, glancing to his side at his appointment schedule for the day. “For the moment it is, yes. I have another patient in a few hours. Where are you?”

“Glen Burnie, by Arundel Mills. I’m not too far.” Hannibal nodded.

“I will be there shortly.” He ended the call, stuffing the phone into his pocket and standing, grabbing his coat. He worked the buttons as he walked for the door, a coil of delight rising in his belly and moving back towards his spine. Perhaps he could find entertainment for his time alone after all.

*

Beverly was waiting by the police line when Hannibal drove up. She watched him step out of his car, move towards her as if he was liquid, and she wondered how any one human being moved so smoothly. It was something she had wondered often about him.

“Thanks for coming,” she offered when he closed in, and he nodded, his exhaled breath visible in the air. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and turned, walking along the grass towards the small pond that decorated the outlet mall’s side. There were cops mulling about, and she could see Jimmy and Brian crouched by the pond- by the body- working to collect samples. “She was found just like this,” she said as they stopped, staring down at the naked body that lay on her side. “No one has moved her yet. Force of habit, not really touching her while we wait for Will.”

Hannibal nodded, crouching down and inclining his head. To his side, Jimmy extended his hand, offering a pair of gloves, which Hannibal excepted and very carefully pulled on. Beverly watched the way the latex moved over his fingers and hands, heard the slip snap of it against his skin. There was something to his movements- and without Will here to hold her attention, she could focus in on it.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing towards the body, and Jimmy nodded, still crouched down. Brian, next to him, had stood up, and had the camera ready, snapping photographs as Hannibal reached out, gripping at the girl’s forehead and tilting it back. Her eyelids were open, exposing the dark holes where her eyes had been. Beverly swallowed, but Hannibal seemed not affected in the least over it. He merely blinked once, taking the image in, and then very carefully reached for her shoulder with his other hand and maneuvered her onto her back, jostling something delicate from her side that fell to the ground.

“I don’t see any other real mutilation,” she pointed out, glancing along the girl’s naked body. She had the urge to throw something over her, preserve her privacy- even in death. It bothered her, to see the victims so exposed.

“I don’t either,” Hannibal agreed, reaching down for the hand that had been pinned beneath her body. Carefully he opened it, exposing what she had been forced to clutch in death. “I do believe we have found her eyes, at least.” Beverly glanced over his shoulder, frowning, and Jimmy took over, using tongs to carefully slip them in an evidence bag.

Hannibal stood up, nearly brushing his back against Beverly, and she caught the scent of his cologne, warm against the cold day. She recognized it from the many evenings she and Alana had spent with Hannibal and Will- from the way it clung to the brunet at times, early in the morning when he had been pressed fresh against the doctor. There was something soothing to it all.

“I’d like to know how she died,” Hannibal said, turning, he and Beverly taking a few steps away. “It would allow me to better paint a picture of your killer.” She nodded.

“I can get you that information as soon as we get her back to the lab. It’s weird, to be at a scene and not have Will...narrating.” She shivered, dug her hands deeper into her pockets. “Go figure, we get peace and quiet and the moment he and Alana are gone, we get a body.”

“Your perpetrator could very well have been sloppy. You will know soon enough.” Hannibal glanced back, at the woman who lay on her back, staring up with eyeless gaps at the grey sky. “I would recommend you work the scene quickly, however. It appears we may be getting some rain- or even snow- soon.”

Beverly nodded, glancing up at the angry sky. “You’re right. I’m sorry to pull you out here in this, Hannibal. I should have just taken some photos.”

“No apology is necessary. I believe I’ll take another walk around, if you do not mind?” Beverly nodded, and he gave her a charming smile, before he turned, walking near the edge of the pond, glancing about from ground to water to body, obviously attempting to piece something together inside his head. Beverly watched, for a moment, then inhaled, closing her eyes and wondering, perhaps, if she could piece this together herself.

She saw the girl standing by the water, but she had no real features. Her blonde hair was a transparent like veil, her clothing blurred lines in with her skin- colors washed out, faded like watered down paint. Beverly tried to place herself in the killer’s places- but unlike Will, she had no idea where to start. She didn’t have his skill, his finely honed curse- and having no knowledge on how the woman died, she had no idea where to put her hands- if she should at all. Perhaps she was drugged, perhaps there was something, some fine incision, her quick glances had missed.

She reached for the girl’s throat, because she could think of nothing else to do, and squeezed. There was a choked sound as her air cut off, and the woman thrashed, tried to tear away from her. Beverly bit her lip, harder and harder as the girl’s eyes rolled, until she was tasting copper and the body was going limp, heavy- dead weight as it fell against her, pressing into her shoulder. In that moment, the scar she bore from her bullet wound throbbed, angrily, and her eyes snapped open, her breath rushing out.

She glanced around, saw nothing had truly changed. The girl lay dead, Jimmy and Brian were still processing the body. She inhaled, held the breath in her lungs until they ached, then exhaled again, a tremor running through her. The watercolor shade had grown solid as she had held her throat, had become tangible, heavy. _Real_.

She licked her lips, realized the copper she had thought she tasted was real. She reached up, ran bare fingers across her lips, saw the smears of red- small but there, real, existing and telling her she had fallen enough into her attempt at empathy to physically harm herself. Beyond the sting in her lip, the scar on her shoulder throbbed in time with her every heartbeat, feeling like an aching reminder of her own mortality- who easily she could be the body on the ground, clutching her own eyes.

She would have been, had Alana not pulled the trigger for her.

Beverly shook her head, filing her thoughts away for another time, pulling herself back to the here and now. She glanced past the body, past Jimmy and Brian, found Hannibal standing, hands in his pockets, still as carved marble.

Staring at her.

She suppressed an open shiver and averted her eyes, back up to the grey sky, but she felt them, his eyes like mulled wine burning into her with a fire- intrigue that burned into his curious being. She felt them pressing past a seam, creeping inside like hands, like she never had before. Was Hannibal’s stare always this destructive and she simply had always had a barrier- or was he only now opening up for her.

Beverly looked back, but he was facing the water now, seeming lost in thought. She wrapped her arms around herself, clinging tightly, wanting to claw into her coat, her shirt, her arms- press her fingers into her skin and ground herself.

Beverly felt almost unstable, off kilter- as if she stood on one foot and the ground was slowly tilting. Another deep breath, held to the point of pain, and she told herself she was alright. It had simply been a while since she had been on a scene. It was because the every day routine was now thrown off- there was no Will here, to craft his perfect narrative for her waiting ears. There was no Alana at home to erase everything she saw, she read, she felt through out the day.

There was simply herself, left to sift through the two worlds they all tried to balance. Simply she- and Hannibal, with his dark eyes that she trusted but felt a sudden, inexplicable terror for.


	2. Chapter 2

Hannibal put the scene to rest in his mind as he sat through his remaining afternoon appointments. Evening found him home, relieved the grey sky had led to nothing as he watched the dogs running around the back yard. He tapped his foot, mentally timing them, knowing he should probably be giving them more exercise- but the air was cold, and they seemed just as ready to go inside as he was when he called. He waited until the last dog- Buster, of course, stopping to glance up at the doctor before continuing on- had gone inside. He got them their dinner first, which left them distracted so that he could start his own without them underfoot.

He was just closing the oven when his phone began to vibrate on the counter. He grabbed it, checking the ID, and answer with a smooth, “Good evening, Beverly.”

“Hi. Am I interrupting?”

“No, I have just put dinner in the oven. To what do I owe this pleasure?” He grabbed his open wine bottle on the counter, refilling his almost empty glass, and taking a sip as she dove right in.

“The girl was strangled. The bruising is more visible now that she’s in the lab under some good lighting. She hasn’t been dead long- we’re thinking between about midnight and two AM for time of death.” She paused for a moment, but Hannibal said nothing, swallowing down his sip of wine. “No sign of sexual trauma- thank god. And no other mutilation other than her eyes.”

Hannibal set his wine glass down, the _clink_ feeling like it echoed through out the kitchen. “I am rather intrigued over why Jack has you on a case that seems so mundane.”

“Well...we think it might be connected to another victim. She was found about three weeks ago, and her eyes were plucked out too. The local PD was working it but didn’t call in assistance, so we never heard about it. I’m still waiting to get the case files, fucking paperwork can take forever.”

“Do let me know when you have them, Beverly.” Hannibal twirled his wine glass, watching the liquid move gently.

“Sure thing. So, does that mean I’ve got your help on this? It’d be nice to have another head in the game, considering both Will and Alana are gone.” Hannibal smiled, tapping his fingers on the counter.

“I would be delighted to assist you, Beverly, whenever I can.” Hannibal thought of the girl again, pale and cool with those abysmal eyes- and he was sure this could entertain him for a spell while Will was away. Beyond that, Beverly’s company was not undesirable- and he was realizing he had grown so used to Will’s company that an empty house, save for the dogs, felt so hollow and painful it was nearly intolerable.

“Thank you so much Hannibal. I’ll give you a call tomorrow, okay?” He nodded, and though she couldn’t see it, she seemed to know it had happened. “Thanks again for coming out today, enjoy the evening.”

“You as well.” He ended the call, setting the phone on the counter and lifting his wine, allowing the scent to seep in through his breath and then taking a healthy swallow that finished off the glass. He poured himself his third for the night- decided to hell with it, he would drink the whole bottle alone if it pleased him- and was just taking a fresh sip when his phone began ringing again. He set the glass down, answering _hello_ and hearing a playful chuckle at the other end.

“Hi darlin’. Don’t tell me you’re already calling up old flames to keep you busy while I’m gone.” Hannibal’s face nearly split with his smile over the sound of Will’s voice, and he turned, leaning his back against the counter and staring out the large window at their backyard and the land beyond it.

“Hello Will. I have missed your voice.”

“I missed yours too. All of you, really.” Hannibal could hear the smile in his voice. “I tried you a few minutes ago and your phone was busy.”

“I apologize, I was on the line with Beverly.” Hannibal could see Will quirking a brow up in his head, the sweet twist to his face- knew he was settling down by the groans he gave and the sound of furniture giving.

“Bev? Really? I guess it’s a good thing Alana didn’t call her right away then. She’s in the shower but she says hello.”

“Do pass my well wishes on to her for me later. How have you been?”

“Alright. The lectures themselves are enjoyable. A lot of questions on my...condition more than anything else, though. Even when Alana and I are lecturing together on Cat.” Hannibal nodded, closing his eyes and inhaling, as if he could breath in Will’s voice through the phone. He knew their joined lecture was on the article they had written together on her, and he wondered how Will felt, standing in front of hundreds of people and lying that he had done everything in his power to get her- lying by concealing that he found her work to be a form of art unlike almost any other-

Beaten of course, only be he and Hannibal’s.

“You’re thinking,” Will interrupted, “I can hear your mind, even over the phone.”

“Just silent musings beloved. How has the company been?”

“Aside of Alana’s? Tolerable, mostly. I let her talk and I just drink.” He laughed, this one a bit bitter. “Everyone just runs to same broken record about my empathy- and frankly about you.” Hannibal turned, stepping towards the oven and peeking in, checking on his dinner.

“Me?”

“Yeah. Apparently our relationship is _fascinating_. Everyone asks if you openly analyze me.”

“And how do you respond to that?”

“I tell ‘em only if you feel like sleeping on the couch.” Hannibal laughed then, loud and crisp, mingling with Will’s over the phone. His smile caused his cheeks to ache, his lungs and belly burning but he found it nearly impossible to stop.

“I do miss you,” he finally managed, as his laughter subsided.

“I miss you too. I have to go, I need to make sure my lecture plans are set for tomorrow and get some sleep. Alana thinks it’s _necessary_ to have breakfast tomorrow with some of the staff before we start in. Can I call you tomorrow?”

“I would be most disappointed if you didn’t.” Hannibal closed his eyes again, smiling to himself, picturing Will’s soft smile melting over his face- wishing he could kiss it, swallow it down, hold it inside himself.

“Okay. I love you, Hannibal.” The doctor’s smile broadened, his chest seizing and tightening, a warmth in his belly that had not yet dulled, no matter how many times he had heard Will say such things to him.

“I love you too, dear William.”

*

Beverly tossed about Alana’s bed, groaning and opening her eyes against the dark. She frowned, turning her head and reading the clock. _Three fucking AM are you shitting me?_ She turned, pressed her face back into the pillow, inhaled the sweet mixture of Alana’s perfume and shampoo, and her stomach cramped up over it.

She missed her. She’d never slept in Alana’s house without her- and she was sure after this week she didn’t want to again. Sighing, Beverly sat up, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and grabbing her sweatshirt from where she had thrown it- half hanging off the foot of the bed. She pulled it over her head as she walked out of the room, down the hall and stairs and towards the kitchen. She left the lights off, filling the tea kettle in the dark and setting it on the stove, feeling so awake she could have dressed and made her way to the lab as if she had gotten a full night’s sleep.

She walked out of the kitchen, found Applesauce standing in the doorway of the living room, looking at her. “Hey girl,” she whispered, “wanna go outside? It’s probably freezing.” She walked to the door, opening it, and the dog happily trotted out into the night. Beverly stepped onto the porch in her bare feet, wrapping her arms around herself and watching idly.

She wondered what Alana would say about the case- how she would profile the killer. They didn’t have much to work with yet- but Beverly was sure, once she got the files from the local PD, she would have something. She could come up with her own ideas, and hoped that Hannibal would paint her a picture of the man- or woman they were looking for.

_Don’t make Will’s mistake. Don’t gender them until you know_.

She exhaled, watched her breath, and absently unwound her arms to rub at her shoulder. For a moment, she wondered if she could have done it- wrapped her hands around a girl’s throat and choked the life out of her, breathed it down and reveled in it until she was limp and lifeless. Could she lay her down and pluck those round orbs from her head, hold them delicately in her hand and resist the urge to crush them.

Beverly shivered, eyelids fluttering. When had she closed her eyes? She shook her head, looking out at the yard and calling to Applesauce. The dog happily ran over, and she held the door open, both of them slipping inside. Beverly locked it, then returned to the kitchen turning off the stove and pouring her water into her mug, dropping a tea bag in as well and allowing it to sit. She hoped it would soothe her to sleep.

She didn’t hold too much faith in the idea.

After a few minutes she gathered the mug up and headed back to bed. She tossed her sweatshirt off and curled up, sitting back against the pillows and sipped at the tea, allowing it to seep down her throat like fire.

Could her killer be female? Could a woman do such harm to another? She knew the answer was yes- she knew it from experience, from the scar at her shoulder from Diane’s bullet. She knew it by the way that Alana had pulled the trigger with little hesitation. She knew it from The Artist- from Catrina Perilloux and what she had done to her many victims, male and female alike.

Gender didn’t matter, not in this. Not in killer, or in victim. She would have to interpret the evidence if she wanted a clue to that- to anything.

Fortunately, that was what she knew she was good at.

She continued to sip her tea, reaching for her phone with one hand and looking at the lock screen. A pretty shot of Alana from a dinner they had gone out to a month ago greeted her- her girlfriend smiling her large, true, glimmering smile- her waves falling onto her red dress as she leaned over the table. It was enough to stop Beverly’s heart- as it often did.

She unlocked the phone and went to her message, managing to type out _I miss you_. She hesitated only a moment, then hit send and set the phone aside, along with her now half empty mug of tea. She laid down, pulling the blanket up over her and pulling Alana’s top pillow to her, nestling into it and closing her eyes, in an attempt to chase dreams one more time.

*

“You’d think if a case popped up with a girl’s _eyes plucked out_ they might have taken it more seriously.” Beverly threw the file down on the table, shared by Brian and Jimmy as they munched on their lunch. She was irate, it had taken half the damn day to get the files she wanted, and no one seemed overly disturbed beyond her and the team about the case.

“The girls look similar,” Brian said, glancing at the picture of the prior victim that had slid out. Her blonde waves were spread out around her face, framing it and the black sockets that had once housed her eyes. “They’re both blonde. Similar build.”

“You would notice,” Jimmy retorted, taking a drink of his flavored water and leaving Brian and glare at him, playfully. Beverly rolled her eyes, settling down herself to study the files more clearly. She had forgotten in her haste that morning to pack a lunch- or, more accurately, had given up when she couldn’t throw something together in Alana’s kitchen, which lacked the dollar noddle bowls she left at her own apartment for cases such as these. She couldn’t be bothered to cook- or even put a sandwich together it seemed.

“They are similar,” she said, pulling the most recent victim’s photo out. They looked about the same height, weight, hair color and even length. Blonde, slightly curvy, hair with a hint of a natural wave. Pretty. “He’s got a type.” She said it without looking up at the two, who were watching her. She shuffled back through the first case’s folder, finding a photo of the eyes that had been removed- a dark brown. “What color was our victim’s eyes?”

Brian hesitated, thinking, before Jimmy finally cut in, “Blue, a dark blue.” She nodded.

“That doesn’t match up. But I guess that doesn’t matter, he’s cutting them away anyway.” Another shuffle, and she found what she was looking for, a photo of a flower, draped over the victim’s stomach. She slid it across the table, towards her partners. “Look at this.” Then, through the mess she had left of the current case, a photo of another flower she had almost missed on her victim- left on the woman’s side, it had fallen off when Hannibal moved her. “And this. Are they the same flower?”

“They look it,” Jimmy said, eyes glancing from one to the other, as Brian munched on a small bag of Cheetos as silently as possible next to him. “Orchids. You can tell by the shape. As to the exact type, I’m a little fuzzy.” Brian eyed the older man, a brow quirked up, and Jimmy glanced from Beverly to him, offering a sheepish smile. “I like flowers.”

“Flowers and bees.”

“They go hand in hand.” Beverly eyed their little exchange, a dance of their eyes, before clearing her throat.

“I’m going to go see if the flower has been identified yet. Finish up, we’ve got a lot of work to do.” She stood up, making a quick dart for the door, glad the sound of her chair being shoved back had masked the sound of her stomach growling.

*

Hannibal sat across from his patient, allowing the sounds of her voice, carrying the sad story of her husband’s latest affair to his ears. He half listened, jotting a note here and there in his notebook, but for the most part allowing her to exist in a realm opposite and separate from him.

He had hoped to hear from Beverly that morning, and was sad he had received no call. He was curious- almost desperately so- over what sort of details she could offer him to paint up a picture of this killer. Without Will he found things to be dreadfully boring. He should have arranged a dinner party while he was gone- but no, those were not the same without his lover by his side, sharing his charming little smiles and the secret glances of delight over the guests and their meals.

That was the most delightful part- he and Will’s secret, the one they communicated only in glances and small smiles. The story behind the meal at the table.

Even if Hannibal had thought to organize a small one, it would be drab and served with no secrets. He had promised Will he would refrain from their night time adventures while he was away- the younger man seemed to house a fear that, even though Hannibal had done so well staying under the radar before Will had joined him, that he would mess up, leave some sort of trace behind- that a fresh glance at a scene without Will as a buffer would have everyone flocking to Hannibal’s doorstep, screaming _cannibal_.

Hannibal, for a brief moment, remembered the blonde FBI agent who had graced his reality’s plane for such a short time, who had died at the literal bare hands of his lover, for daring to say that Hannibal could be more than a very cultured, well mannered doctor. He remembered, and because of that, he promised. Will had saved him, once, from certain discovery.

He’d saved him another time, from certain death.

In that moment Hannibal’s arms began to throb, the scars neatly hidden by his shirt and jacket aching. He wanted to stroke them, gently, soothe them, but to do so would mean to set his pen down, to draw attention to himself from the woman who spoke as if the world was listening to her pathetic tears. He had no desire to be seen by her, then, to have to interact. Lately, his patients felt more a bore, a burden, than ever before. Once there had been some fun within them, something to toy with, to manipulate to his desires. But now they were a routine, something he sat through, tolerated, in the hopes of returning home to Will as soon as possible.

He needed new patients, or a change. Perhaps he could slip back into surgery, to the thrill of cutting and discovering.

He was bidding his patient a good-day, finally, when his phone began to buzz from its location on his desk. Once the door was closed he walked over, calmly, lifting it and giving a small smirk at the caller ID. “Hello Beverly.”

“Hannibal, hi. I hope I’m not disrupting anything?”

“Your timing is impeccable, my last patient of the afternoon has just left me.”

“Oh. Good. Look, there’s a tie between both victims. Or well, a few. Nothing personal, but they look _very_ similar. I think we can say our guy- or girl- has a definite type. But anyway, they each had a flower on them. An orchid. And there’s a flower shop and greenhouse in Glen Burnie. I need to check it out, talk to the staff- I was hoping you might come with me?”

Hannibal smiled, deciding this could be far more interesting than returning home early to the company of the dogs. “I would be delighted.” Beverly sounded relieved when she gave him the address, which he wrote down carefully in a notebook, before bidding her farewell. He ended the call, pocketing his phone, and wondering what discoveries might await him.

*

Beverly waited until Hannibal’s Bentley was parked and he was climbing out to get out of her car. She had come alone- had Hannibal been unable, she was going to drag Brian and Jimmy with her, but she knew they did better work at the lab. Currently, they were looking back through old cases to see if there were other victims matching these two who might have had damage done to their eyes- or a flower left. Preferably, both.

“Thanks again,” she offered as Hannibal walked over to her. He gave her a smile, and she shivered. She understood Will’s obsession with the man- he was devilishly handsome, to say the least. “The flower was a Laelia Orchid. We search for flower shops around the area, but the smaller ones don’t advertise Orchids. This one has its own greenhouse and grows a more diverse selection of flowers year round- and they advertise multiple types of Orchids, the Laelia included.”

“Are you thinking our killer works here.” Beverly shrugged a shoulder.

“It’s a possibility. They could also be a customer, a supplier- anything. We’ll need to get a look at their books, along with statements from all staff.” She offered up a smile. “I figured I’d do the talking, and you might make some mental... _judgments_ on them.”

Hannibal smiled, placing his hand on her back as they walked, an oddly comforting gesture, she realized- except she had the odd feeling that, if he wanted, he could be grabbing her spine, dragging it up from her body, to hold the bone and stroke it lovingly, like some sort of bloody carnival prize.

*

“We need your records,” Beverly said, not unkindly, to the owner after the cashier had produced her from her office. She handed her the warrant, and the woman- older, with blonde hair going grey and a pair of slim glasses hiding her green eyes- took it, reading it over. “Could we possibly discuss this in your office? I don’t want to upset any of your customers.”

“Of course.” She nodded her thanks to Beverly, gave Hannibal a glance- then turned, motioning for them to follow. The shop itself was more spacious than Beverly had anticipated, with a set of stairs towards the back- blocked off with a lovely hanging sign that said _Staff only_ , the boarder painted with colorful, life like flowers. Up stairs was mostly open, shelves with storage, with books, and a door that opened into a nicely kept office. “Please, have a seat.”

The two sat as the woman settled behind the desk, spreading the warrant out atop it.

“You asked for my records. Would you care at least explaining why?”

“A body was found not far from here. A girl, with her eyes removed.” The woman nodded.

“Yes, I heard about that. Tragic. You believe there is some connection to my shop?”

“Perhaps. She was found with a flower- this flower.” Beverly pulled the file from her bag, removing the image of the Orchid and sliding it across the woman’s desk. “I believe you do grow and sell this particular Orchid.”

The woman studied the image for a moment. “Yes, we do...I don’t believe I got your name.” Beverly blushed, realizing she had forgotten such a common courtesy, and Hannibal had to force down his smile over it.

“I apologize. I’m agent Beverly Katz, and this is Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He’s assisting me in the profiling for the case.” Hannibal moved to reach across the desk, offering his hand and shaking the woman’s. She seemed to relax slightly once introductions were made, and turned her eyes back to the picture.

“Good to meet you both. Yes, we do grow and sell the Laelia Orchid. Very popular because of its pink and purple color variations. Beautiful flower, and thankfully one of the easier to cultivate. So your victim was found with this?” Beverly nodded.

“Yes. We need to know who has purchased any recently, who has come into contact them from your suppliers, or had access. And of course, your staff.” The woman frowned.

“I will get one of the girls to pull up our register’s data and print it for you. We get names and phone numbers of any customers, we find it helps when we start to get repeat purchases. Many people still find joy in keeping live flowers in their homes, and often have a particular type they are partial to- or a pattern to the types they use. With the holidays coming, the Laelia has fallen out of favor, so the list is much shorter. If you would like, I can take you to the greenhouse and you can start with the staff I have there. I simply ask you only pull one girl from the front at a time- I do not want to be understaffed.”

“That’s fine. Thank you.” Beverly stood up, Hannibal following suit, and gathered up the picture of the flower, stuffing it all away and following the woman back out of the office and downstairs.

*

There were three people back in the greenhouse. Beverly spoke to the woman first- who said she was home with her husband and kids the night of the murder, sleeping at that point. She seemed friendly enough, offered up her home phone and husband’s name so Beverly could verify. She knew that didn’t mean innocence, but it didn’t exactly point towards guilty.

She also knew her killer might not even work here. She would have to cross reference all the names she owner gave her too, and their alibis. She tried to not think about how long that could take, depending on the list.

The other two were men, one saying he was with his buddies at a bar til almost four AM when they finally closed and kicked them out. She was given the name of the bar, and then three guys names and phone numbers- and an attempt at a charming wink to call her current subject, should she _need anything_. She avoided rolling her eyes, and felt Hannibal pressing a hand to her back, giving the man a tight lined smile and a curt _thank you_ for his time.

She appreciated that, simply because she didn’t need to get herself in trouble by getting into it with a guy on a routine questioning visit.

The last guy said he was with his girlfriend- hesitated before giving the name, but her number came willingly. He was scruffy looking, strawberry blonde with stubble and eyes that seemed more interested in studying the flowers than Beverly. She thanked him, then left to begin her questioning of the shop’s front staff.

By the time they where done, her little notebook had names and numbers and notes scribbled all through out it, and she was clutching papers with the names and numbers of anyone who bought Laelias within the past week- plus the suppliers that had stopped by. She was going to be up all night making these calls and compiling this into a proper report for the file.

“Did anyone stick out to you?” Beverly asked, as Hannibal walked her to her car. He had stayed terrifyingly silent through out all of it, but she knew his mind was ticking away. Will did the same thing sometimes. He observed and to the world around him, he was just standing- but to those who knew him, his mind was racing.

Hannibal motioned for her notebook and she passed it off. He took her pen, starring a few names, making a few notes. “The first girl at the register, she had a nervous twitch to her. She kept looking away from you. And the gentleman in the back who hesitated in giving his girlfriend’s name. I am sorry to say no one seemed to give off any real ticks, though.” Beverly nodded, shoving everything into her bag and adjusting it on her shoulder.

“Well, thank you. If I e-mail you copies of the files I have, do you think you can write up a quick profile for me? Just something to base our hunt off of- and give to Jack. I’m sure the press might start pestering us soon, even though we’ve managed to keep everything very quiet.”

“Of course. When can I expect your email?” Beverly tapped her shoulder.

“Early evening. I’ll have to give Jack a quick run down when I get back to the lab about all of this, and sort the data a bet. I’ll send it before I head home, in between getting in touch with all of these lovely people.” She exhaled, her breath a puff of white in the air. “Thanks again for your help Hannibal. I’m sure there’s so much more you could be doing with your time that is more enjoyable.”

Hannibal gave her his charming smile- and she could have fallen for it, if she hadn’t darted up to his eyes. Dark, hot, swallowing everything down- and suddenly she thought he was enjoying this.

“It is always my pleasure, Beverly. After all, what are friends for?” He gave her his polite goodbye, and she watched him head over towards his Bentley, rolling his words over in her head one more time.

_What are friends for?_ What indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal you are one extremely lonely cannibal. Don't be wishing for more interesting patients, you'll be begging for the boring ones when this verse eventually gets to the Vergers.  
> Also someone please make Beverly a sandwich (or force Brian to share his food).


	3. Chapter 3

Beverly tossed her keys into the bowl as she locked Alana’s door, having let Applesauce out upon stepping into the house first. Now, as the dog wait patiently for her dinner, she shrugged her coat and scarf off, leaving her shoes in a mess by the door and heading towards the kitchen. She tossed her bag on the table, leaving it forgotten as she fed the dog and then started the oven, grabbing a frozen pizza from the freezer and leaving it on the counter.

She raked a hand over her face, sighing, not sure if she wanted a cup of strong coffee or a beer. In her bag sat her typed up report from her visit to the florist earlier. With all the names she would need to contact. She could recruit Brian and Jimmy come tomorrow, but it would still be a pain in the ass and a mess of paperwork to type up. Maybe they could be swayed away from the case they were still helping on to focus more on hers.

She’d have to ask Jack about it come morning. She wasn’t sure she could do all this alone- but as it were, that was her only real option. It wasn’t a priority case, and therefore no one seemed to think it needed much man power.

The oven _beeped_ at her and she pulled a tray out, managing to get the pizza on and in the oven in one piece. From the doorway, Applesauce was watching, and Beverly heaved a sigh.

“Tell you what girl. If this comes out edible, you can have a piece. Just don’t tell ‘Lana, she’ll flay me.” She laughed at herself, leaving the kitchen and reaching the stairs the moment her phone began to ring from her pocket. “Hello?” she asked without looking, heading upstairs.

“Hi.” Alana’s voice filled her head, and Beverly nearly paused to take it in, a smile crossing her face.

“Well hello gorgeous. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. Don’t you have to get cocktails or something?”

“Soon, soon. We’re getting ready. I miss you.” Beverly smiled, navigating the hallway in the dark and letting herself into the master bedroom.

“I miss you too. Having fun?”

“Yes. You sound tired.” Beverly laughed, rolling her eyes as she started, one handed, on the buttons to her shirt.

“You’re too observant. Didn’t sleep well, and I’ve got a mountain of paperwork looming ahead of me for this case.”

“I thought you were consulting on one.” Beverly worked her shirt off, tossing it on the bed, then moving to work on her fly.

“Was. Jack handed me a live case. Except it’s just me- they don’t seem to think it’s a top priority. But I have a feeling it could escalate, if I don’t find this guy fast...or girl.” She stepped out of her pants, flopping onto the bed in her underwear and cuddling up to Alana’s pillow. “Hannibal is helping me put together a profile, and I’m going to see if I can get Brian and Jimmy off the case we were consulting on for a day or two to help me conduct interviews and do the paperwork.”

“E-mail me the files, I’ll take a look.” Beverly heard a muffled voice, knew it was Will, and the sound of the hotel door opening. “Baby I have to go, we’re off to meet with a few department chairs. Send me an e-mail, I’ll have a look and help you with a profile.”

“’Lana you’re busy-“

“Bev, don’t make me ask twice.” Beverly openly laughed, picturing the look Alana would give her, where she there in person.

“Alright love, alright. I’ll send them later. Have fun.”

“Thanks. Don’t burn my house down.” Beverly laughed again, ending the call with a playful _no promises_.

*

The air was cold, but Hannibal ignored it. He stood with his robe pulled tight around him, on the back porch of the house, staring out at the black that was the yard, the fields behind- the sky. All of it, colorless, a void that seemed to open up and call him, urge him on. He exhaled, a puff of cool white to break the bleakness, and then nothing once again.

He should be asleep. He had brunch plans with a few acquaintances from the Opera- to alleviate his boredom- and patients into the evening. Along with that, he was sure he would be hearing from Beverly about her case.

Yet it was the early hours of the morning- too early for the sun to consider an appearance, early enough to be considered night- and he stood outside in the cold He rubbed along one of his arms, feeling the scar beneath aching, and his belly cramped in turn.

It was only his second night alone, but he felt utterly beside himself. There seemed so little to do without Will in the house- even if there were plenty of times where they seemed to simply exist in the same house, but in their own worlds. Will might work on his lures, and Hannibal would sink into his drawings. But that presence, that reassurance that he wasn’t alone- that was what Hannibal craved, and missed.

He had grown accustomed to being alone, accepted the fact that no one would ever see him, know him- until Will. And then the man, damn him, shattered it, pulled Hannibal into a reality where someone saw him, understood and appreciated him-

_Loved him_.

Hannibal inhaled, deeply, the icy air making his lungs ache. He exhaled, watched his breath shatter the dark again, before it reformed. His scars throbbed, and his fingers itched suddenly. Turning, he made his way inside, barely remembering to lock the backdoor behind him, heading to the kitchen. He threw open a cabinet, pulling from it a simple, white tea cup- the rim a soft blue, and dropped it, watching it shatter on the floor. The sound echoed in the shell of the house, and Hannibal stared, waiting on baited breath-

As nothing happened.

A moment turned into a minute, and he was suddenly aware of how ridiculous this was- how ridiculous it always was. Frowning, he stepped around the mess, off to get the dust pan to clean up his mess. He’d have to come up with a reason for the missing teacup, should Will ask.

He was sure he wouldn’t.

Still, the truth wouldn’t do. He couldn’t simply say he was waiting to see it reform, take up its original shape again, nor how badly he wanted it to. If it could reform, she could she.

Hannibal threw away the destroyed tea cup, and set the dust pan away. He made his way back upstairs, removing his robe and crawling back into bed. Winter and its cold nights always made him miss Mischa the most- and he was sure, had Will been there, he would have served as enough of a distraction, that Hannibal could have had a moment’s peace.

But without him, her ghost was there to haunt him, looming like a pale shade in the corner of the room, watching. She was heavy and terrifying, and yet he loved her so. If he closed his eyes, he could feel her hands in his hair like ice, pulling and digging down into his skull, for his brain-

Wanting to shut him off, to end him as she had been ended.

Hannibal lay back and closed his eyes. He pushed Mischa from his mind as best as he was able, until she was standing in the corner, watching with her lovely eyes, and instead thought of Will, warm and sleepy in bed next to him, curling up as a constant source of heat. His Will, his beloved, the monster that chased _his_ nightmares away.

Hannibal was sure he would not sleep through the night until Will returned.

*

Beverly was relieved that Jack had given permission to pull Brian and Jimmy from their consultation case so that they could help her go through the questioning she had. Brian took the suppliers- who all had to be called, as they were out of state, while Jimmy went out on visits to all the customers listed. Beverly had planned it so- she was sure Jimmy might be a better sight than Brian. He had cursed her for it, while the older man had only laughed at her very true logic.

That left her to check in on the alibis of the shop’s staff. It meant a day of driving around Maryland, from house to house, apartment to apartment, verifying stories and times. She was on her fourth cup of coffee by the time the day was about done, and she was pulling up to the last subject. Beverly headed up the stairs of the apartment complex, knocking on the door and waiting, rocking on her heels and wondering if she could convince Brian to get a beer with her after work. She needed it, badly.

Finally, the door cracked open, and she was met be part of a freckled face and an almost disturbingly green eye.

“Hi,” Beverly offered, giving a smile, “I’m Agent Beverly Katz. I was hoping I could have a minute of your time.” The door closed again, and the sound of a chain rattling reached her ears, before it opened again and a slim young woman filled the space.

“What do you want?” Her voice had a crack to it, her hair a disheveled mess of red curls. She looked as if she might have been sleeping.

“I’m sorry to disturb you. Do you know a Corey Langley?” She nodded, but offered no words. “And you’re...Dot Barlow?” Another nod. Beverly wondered if that was a nickname, or the girl’s given name, but for the moment thought it best no to push. As it were, she was saying next to nothing, and Beverly was still standing in the hallway. “What were you doing two nights ago, Ms. Barlow?”

“I stayed up watchin’ movies,” she offered, tucking some of her hair back behind her ear. “Corey and I had a bad movie night.”

“Okay. Was he with you all night?” She nodded.

“Yeah. Movies played until about four I think? We smoked a bowl and fucked on the couch probably an hour before they ended.” Beverly blinked back the girl’s bluntness, nodding. “Anything else?”

“Uhm, no, that’s fine. Thank you for your time.” She turned, making a quick exit back for her car, pulling her phone out and checking the time. She should be able to catch Jimmy and Brian at the lab to compare notes, then see about that beer.

*

“The suppliers all checked out,” Brian greeted her with as she walked in. He was frowning, pushing a near empty coffee cup around. At least the machine had been fixed- or replaced. She wasn’t entirely sure which.

“So did the clients,” Jimmy offered, and that had Beverly groaning.

“Well fuck, so did the staff. We’re back at square-fucking-one.” She reached up, squeezed the bridge of her nose. “Look I’m worn out. Either of you feel like a beer? I can think this over more later when I’m sitting up all night with Applesauce. Maybe _she’ll_ have some ideas.”

Brian and Jimmy exchanged glances for a moment, before Jimmy offered up a, “Sorry, I can’t tonight.” Beverly looked at Brian, who shrugged a shoulder.

“Sorry Bev, I’ve got plans.” She rolled her eyes, raking her hands back through her hair.

“What, a hot date?”

“Something like that.” She frowned, flipping him off playfully, before giving them a goodbye and heading out with their notes in hand, deciding she’d just drink and home and compile her notes.

*

Beverly had managed to let Applesauce out, give her dinner, and was just pulling a beer from the fridge when her phone went off. She walked over to it, seeing Jack’s name, and her stomach immediately dropped.

“Hello?”

“Beverly, good. I need you, Brian and Jimmy aren’t answering. Your guy- he struck again.”

“Where?”

“Just up the road from the last place. The place is sanctioned off, how fast can you get there?”

“I’m leaving now,” she said, walking over to the door and grabbing her coat, her beer unopened and left on the kitchen table. She had barely pulled away from the house when she was dialing another number, waiting patiently until Hannibal answered. “Hannibal, it’s Beverly. Sorry to bother you, but he struck again. Jack just called and I’m on my way to the scene. Up for a little before-dinner horror show?”

There was a chuckle, and it made Beverly openly shiver. “For you, Beverly, I believe I am. Where am I heading?” Beverly gave him the address, thanked him, and then hung up- a part of her wishing suddenly that she hadn’t called him, the image of him beyond the girl, still as stone, watching her like a terror pulled straight from her nightmares.

But his touch on her back at the floral shop had been reassuring, and she was suddenly having trouble reconciling the two.

*

The air had an extra cold bite to it, Hannibal noticed, to the point that he had left his leather gloves on, even as he drove. The sweet sounds of classic opera filled his ears, created an isolated world with him as the only resident- cut off from everything outside his car. It was a feeling he enjoyed, a simple escape that did not distract from his daily life.

He knew the scene even as he turned onto the road, saw the flashing lights filling the darkening air. It would be dark before he was gone, but he did not mind. He wanted to see this in the velvet black- perhaps as the killer had. He did not think the man- he dared to gender the killer in his mind- had the courage to work in day light. Everything was under the cover of night.

At least when he and Will worked within night, it was not out of _fear_ , but out of restrained time. Hannibal wondered, as he parked his car, what it would be like to watch Will cut into a man with the sun streaming through large windows- past soft, thin white curtains- the enjoy the sounds of a symphony left playing in the air as Will dissecting by his own choosing-

He always had such good selections, Hannibal noted. Whether out of his own design, or a desire to bring Hannibal gifts that would indeed steal his heart, he wasn’t sure- nor did it matter. His heart was won, and easily so.

Hannibal stepped from his car, straightening his jacket and walking around the Bentley, towards the cops that stood along the police tap. They gave him a nod and did not stop him as he ventured beneath it. Before him, a few yards away, Beverly stood, stark still like stone, staring forward. He hesitated, waiting a moment to take her in- he often saw her moving, there was an energetic light to her that he had come to be rather fond of- and she seemed to lack it suddenly. She was of marble, and he wondered what he might do to chisel away a few new curves.

He began his walk towards her, and she turned after a few steps, glancing at him, yet saying nothing. He walked right up to her, taking in what she had been looking at.

The body of a young woman, naked as the rest, left strewn across a bench. Her eyeless stare was made worse by the large patch of missing skin along her nose and cheeks.

“He partially skinned her,” Beverly whispered, her swallowed audible in the cold air, the silence. This, too, was an isolated world, Hannibal decided. Separate from the reality of everyone else bustling about the scene- all of whom seemed to have taken a few steps back and left these two alone. There was a sense of peace here, as if the air itself dared not move. Beverly reached up, rubbed a hand over her face. “Here eyes were in her hand, I think her arm shifted somehow, fell over the side of the bench. They’re on the ground, near her hand. She hasn’t been touched.” She pointed towards the girl’s abdomen, where a flower lay, resting as a splash of color against her creamy skin. “He left us his card.”

“She resembles the other victims. Same hair, height, weight- even age. You were right in believing he had a type, Beverly.”

“But she’s different. He never skinned one before.” She was staring at the girl’s face, and Hannibal turned to study that stare. “Why her, why now?”

“Where is the rest of her face?” Beverly shrugged a shoulder.

“We’re looking. Maybe he took it with him. Maybe he fed it to a dog, or a damned raccoon. Either way, as it stands, we don’t have it.”

“Well, I suggest we find it. Your answer is in her face- precisely, in the missing piece. He skinned her because of it.” Beverly nodded, finally glancing over at him. He watched her breath leave her, thought she looked rather pale in the settling light.

“He went weeks between the other two victims- now only days. Something riled him up. What if it was us?”

“Our visit to the floral shop?” She nodded. “Then it would have happened at some point. The visit was unavoidable.” Hannibal paused, then spoke, much more softly, “Are you harboring guilt, Beverly?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Hannibal frowned, reaching out and pressing his hand to the small of her back, a place his hand often fell on Will.

“You know, you are simply denying it.” She huffed a sigh, glancing over him, then back at the body.

“Okay, a little. A little lot. I don’t know- if I had found some missing piece, if I had thought about something differently, maybe this girl would be alive.” She looked at him again, aware of his hand and not asking him to move it. “Does Will feel like this?”

“More than even I would care to admit. He takes everything to heart. He has a terrible habit of internalizing everything- and feeling that he must simultaneously _save_ everyone and _punish_ those who deserve it.” Beverly nodded. “Tell me about him now, Beverly. Look at her and talk me through it.”

Beverly turned back, stared at the girl intently, exhaling in white puffs, as if she was a dragon, examining her hoard, her treasures. Looking for the finest piece among it all- the truth.

“He- I used my hands. Bare. Around her throat- I like that. I need to feel her choke, I need to _feel_ her die.” Her hands twitched, and in her mind, Beverly saw it, felt it- the way her windpipe went flat, the way she struggled- the pump of her pulse against her hand.

“Why do you need to feel it Beverly?”

She licked her lips. “I need to make sure she is really dead. I...I think I hate her.” She closed her eyes, felt her chest pulsing, a rage coiling in her belly. “I hate her, and whoever she stands for. I hate her enough that I want- no, I need, to kill her, over and over again. Each girl is her, in my mind.” She felt Hannibal’s breath, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized he was leaning in, exhaling against her neck, and when he spoke, whispering in her ear.

“How does it feel, Beverly, to kill her?”

She tilted her head back, allowing herself to take a deep breath, the breath this girl couldn’t take. It rushed into her lung like cold spikes, piercing her, sending the chill through her body- but her spine was hot, radiating from Hannibal’s hand up, up into her brain where she felt feverish. That was what killing her felt like- like a fever, a delirium, a dream that needed to be relived over and over again.

_It felt good_.

The words dissolved on her tongue, and she opened her eyes, straightening up. She didn’t speak for a moment, could taste them still, what remained, a sweet sort of rot that clung to her teeth and made her oddly thirsty. She glanced at Hannibal- and he seemed so far away suddenly, standing next to her, not leaning in. Had she imagined it all?

“You said Will feels guilty over the people he doesn’t help.” Hannibal nodded. Beverly folded her arms, shifting. “And that he wants to...punish those who deserve it.”

Hannibal eyed her, and for a moment, Beverly felt a mouse that stared up at a coiled snake, ready to strike. She did not move, but she did not shrink away, and the moment passed- Hannibal’s eyes gaining a sort of intrigued light to them.

“For Will, doing bad things to bad people feels good.” He pulled his hand back, slipping both into the pockets of his coat. “But you already knew that, Beverly.” This time she turned to him, fully.

“Did I?” He nodded.

“You were there when he shot that man who had been leaving those girls mutilated, six months ago. Who kept them in the barn-“

“Bradley Madison.” Hannibal smiled, a smirk, a devilish twist of his lips that was charming and sinister all at once. Beverly didn’t flinch away from it.

“Yes, him. You were there. You saw what happened- and you lied to Jack.”

“I told Jack what I saw.” Beverly felt her stomach growing cold, and suddenly she didn’t want to be here, standing outside, next to a dead woman, with this man. She wanted to be curled up in bed, she wanted Applesauce at the foot of it and Alana curled up in her arms. She didn’t want this.

But the fibers beneath her skin felt like they were reaching for it.

“You told Jack a rendition of the truth- one you felt fitting enough that he would believe, that did not feel too much of a stray from reality. You protected Will, and dear Beverly- for that, I am grateful. It is about time I finally expressed that.” He reached out, squeezing her shoulder affectionately for a moment, before pulling back. “Think about it tonight, Beverly. What killing these girls felt like. I am sure, come morning, you will feel enlightened.”

Hannibal gave her a nod, and then he was turning, walking away, leaving Beverly to watch him go. For a moment, her mind tried to tug her back, away from this- to finding Will staring down at an unarmed man, cradling his broken hand- to her friend clearly saying, hissing at the man who had caused so much pain, _I’m far better than you_.

He had pulled the trigger, and Beverly- she had felt no regret for his actions, not now, looking back and replaying the scene in her head. _The man deserved to die_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys thought you'd only hear about Mischa in AFoT, you thought wrong. Also, referencing that fic because I cannot write in this series and not reference past cases.
> 
> I don't think there will be another update until next week. I've got a lot of hours the next few days at work, and then I'll be at Monster Mania all weekend! (Hhhnnnn Mads!!!) but I will try :3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who is finally done with classes and has had work calm down? Also who finally was bitten by her muse to come back to this series.

Beverly had processed the scene herself- with the help of some of the agents sent to help contain the scene. Jack himself never made an appearance- which left her wondering if something had happened. She knew about the state of Bella’s health, and didn’t fool herself into thinking the man would be able to carry on as if his wife wasn’t dying before his eyes. She wondered what it would be like without Jack around- how long he would be gone.

What if his job fell into someone else’s hands?

Beverly was pulled from her thoughts when Brian and Jimmy finally arrived. They stepped out of Jimmy’s car, walking towards her with hands stuffed in their coat pockets. From Brian’s which was only half closed, she could see one of his _few_ nicer button down shirts- she recognized it because she had helped him pick it out before a date he’d had with a girl a good year ago. Jimmy himself looked put together as well- enough to make her wonder, but silently.

“She’s missing half her face,” Beverly offered in greeting, and both Brian and Jimmy grimaced.

“Your greetings are always so flavorful,” Jimmy pointed out, accepting the gloves she handed him. “Where is she?”

“Being loaded up now. Most of the scene has been processed now, but I’d love you guys to give it a once over.” They nodded, moving past her towards the bench. Beverly didn’t watch, didn’t look back- simply walked towards the edge of the scene, the police tape, watching her breath in front of her.

She could feel Hannibal’s hand like fire still, even with him long gone. Asking her how she had done- as if she had, as if she was the man- woman- _whatever_ \- that choked the life out of this girl and ended her very existence. As if she had that _power_ inside her to control reality-

Beverly crashed back to reality when she heard the shutter on a camera. She turned her head, found a halo of bright red, pristine curls framing the shape of a camera, hiding Freddie Lounds’s face. Another _click_ , and the device was lowered.

“Lost in thought, agent Katz?” She balanced her camera with one hand, watching with eyes that took in every detail, every hair out of place and shadow on Beverly’s face. For a brief moment, the woman thought Ms. Lounds and Hannibal should become friends.

“There’s a lot to think about.”

“Care to tell me what’s going on?” She waved her hand, and Beverly frowned.

“If you want an interview, go through Jack Crawford. He’s the only one that can okay a press release.” Freddie frowned, taking a step towards Beverly.

“I don’t have to say _who_ talked to me,” she pointed out. “Don’t you think people have a right to know, if there’s a serial killer out there and they may be in danger.”

“What makes you think this person has killed more than once?”

Freddie chuckled, sweet and tart, and took a casual step towards Beverly. “I’m not dumb or blind, _Agent Katz_. I know there was a death within the past few days, not far from here. Coincidence that they’re so close in proximity? I’d think not- especially with you making an appearance. But where is the star of the show?”

“Will’s not here.” Beverly crossed her arms, as if she could act as a human wall between Freddie and even thoughts of Will Graham. “He’s out of town, will be all week.”

“So Jack has let you out to play all alone?” Beverly frowned, brown crinkling, and Freddie’s smile dulled. “No offense intended this time. Listen, give me something to work with. The people have a right to know.” Freddie paused, then as what seemed as an after thought, “I’m sure without Will you’re very busy. We could do this over a drink.”

Beverly was almost tempted. Almost, because the alcohol would soothe her, because she thought maybe Freddie Lounds wasn’t _all_ trash- she had wit, that was for sure. But she was starved for human contact, and her _joke_ about a puppy play date with Hannibal resonated in her mind as suddenly a good idea.

“Not tonight Freddie,” she finally offered, letting her fatigue show around her eyes, her mouth. “Not tonight.”

*

By the time Beverly finally made it home- after an extended stay at the lab- it was pitch black, and Applesauce was whining. She let the dog out, fed her dinner late, and skipped food for herself. Instead she opened a beer, taking it and her bag upstairs to the bedroom. She spread her files out on the bed, photos of the three girls’ bodies- lined up side by side, the first two sporting a _before_ image above them.

She took a swig, thinking again that they were pretty. Pretty and young- too young to deserve this. Too young to go out in such a terrified way- to be left exposed, like trash. As if the world should be privy to all their flesh secrets.

She tipped her beer back, swallowing and swallowing until it was empty and then setting it aside- wishing she had grabbed another. She glanced at the clock next to her, which was creeping towards one AM already- how she had been at the lab until midnight seemed a mystery. Huffing a sigh, she flopped down, staring up at the cool ceiling, allowing her vision to spin from exhaustion.

At some point, the ceiling turned to velvet, to black, to sky, to nothing. And she was standing, outside, chilled to the marrow of her bones. She felt it, in her core- her very existence creaking from the cold as she moved, as her hands wrapped tightly around the girl’s throat. Her face was featureless, except for her brown eyes which stared, wide, terrified, as Beverly gripped and gripped, clenched and cut off breath.

She could taste her fear, it lingered, inhaled with each of Beverly’s breaths, which filled her lungs with ice. Each exhale hurt, but left room for another taste of that fear elixir, that sweet venom-air, and _god_ she wanted it.

“Pretty thing,” she whispered, leaning in as those brown eyes rolled back, a mouth that was featureless yet there going slack, “Prettier when I’m done with you. Prettier when these imperfections are gone.” She released the girl then, the body falling limp and heavy to the bench behind her. Carefully then, she shoved one knee on the bench, reaching into her pocket, and pulling out a small pocket knife. Crude, but it would do the job, she opened it, pressing the tip into the girl’s cheek. “Perfect, perfect, perfect,” she was whispering to herself, under hear breath, as she began the cut, tracing around the shape of her cheeks and nose, digging beneath and lifting the skin like a filmy layer that needed to be cleansed.

When she inhaled, blood filled her nose, and she grinned.

Beverly’s eyes flicked open and she sat up quickly, glancing around the room. She had fallen asleep with the light on, and her papers were still scattered all over the bed- a few having fallen off. She was even still completely dressed. Groaning, reaching up to rub at her head, she glanced at her clock- which now read about two thirty, and cursed everything.

She stood up, crossing the room to shut the light off, and when she returned stopped and stood, staring down at the be din the dark, at the faint shadows of the papers. A moment passed, and then she was reaching for them, angrily throwing them away, giving a cry of dismay.

It had felt _good_ to have her hands around the girl’s throat. It had felt _right_ \- and she had no explanation as to why.

Sickened, she fell onto the bed, curling up and closing her eyes, despite not wanting to see what lie behind them.

*

“Is it strange, to suddenly find your home empty, with Will’s absence?” Bedelia Du Maurier spoke in her classic, cool voice, smooth as velvet and precise in every word, ever syllable stress. As ever, sitting across from Hannibal, she was the portrait or perfection, not a hair out of place, eyes calculating yet calm. He admired that, he found he wanted to sit at times and not speak, simply watch her, paint her inside his head.

He was sure she had quite the portrait of him inside her own.

“It is...unsettling,” Hannibal admitted, knowing that lying served no purpose in this room. It never had- except when there was that secret part of him that needed defending. “And even more unsettling that I find it so. Even with Will’s...pack present, the house feels a skeleton.”

“You miss him.”

A simple statement, and one that Hannibal could not deny. Yet, with his slight nod, he felt as if he was betraying something, something of himself. He had never needed someone’s presence as he did Will’s, had never needed there to be a single person in existence to look at him, to see him. And now- now that Will had, he craved that constant gaze, needed to be drunk on it.

“I’m beyond relieved his absence will be short lived,” Hannibal offered, giving a small smile. “He will return in a few days. And I am sure your next session with him will be full of stories of his time away- I know Dr. Bloom is...encouraging him to be quite social.” Hannibal’s smile broadened, _encouraged_ being the wrong word, knowing that _forced_ was far better. “You know how my darling dislikes such things.”

This time, Bedelia offered a quiet chuckle, shifting in her seat. “I do know. I look forward to it. William is ever a joy to examine.” Her gaze flickered along Hannibal, ready to fully take in his reaction to what he knew would be a new question. “How have you been filling your time without him, Hannibal?”

He offered no smile, but _Oh, you are ever a clever girl, Bedelia_. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs, eyeing her kindly. “I have been asked to step in and assist with a case in Will’s absence.”

“So you’re filling the hole your lover has left with blood?”

“Precisely.” Neither allowed their expressions to slip, but Hannibal knew Bedelia was prying at a seam of his person-suit, slipping her fingers inside to caress the real creature within- whatever he was, had become, would evolve to, she was touching it. She knew it was there, she knew it’s shadow- but she did not hinder it. Perhaps she wanted to see its final form.

Perhaps she had her own creature inside her skin, and she needed to see her possible path.

Before either could continue, there was a muffled ringing, from Hannibal coat pocket, left hanging across the room. Hannibal stood, excusing himself and walking over to his coat, pulling his phone out, glancing at the caller ID, and then answering with an easy smile. “Alana, this is a surprise. Are you and my dear Will not busy today?”

“Very busy,” she admitted, “So I’ll be brief Hannibal. Beverly didn’t answer or return my call this morning.”

“She has been very immersed in her case.” Hannibal smiled, remembering the way her mouth formed the story of the last woman’s death, the way the fear in her turned to excitement. He’d seen that transformation before. He knew it well. “Perhaps it has slipped her mind.”

“Still.” There was muffled talking, and Alana sighed. “Hannibal, Will’s wrapping up his talk and I have to get out there for our joint lecture. Can you just check in on her? Call her for me? Let me know she’s okay?”

“For you Alana, anything.”

“Thank you.”

Hannibal returned his phone to his pocket, glancing over at Bedelia. “I apologize for that,” he offered, typically leaving his phone silenced or off entirely when he was with her. She stood up, keeping her distance but ever watching.

“No apology necessary. It seems you have found some new entertainment, Hannibal.”

Hannibal gave her nothing more then a smile.

*

Hannibal called the lab first, directly to Jack’s desk. There was no answer. His second call was simply to the operator there, asking to speak to one of three people, whoever was available first.

Beverly, Brian, or Jimmy.

Brian’s voice tkaing the call after a momentary hold was new, and Hannibal realized he had never spoken with the man over the phone. Or really one-on-one. These were Will’s people, and he was only an outsider.

“Dr. Lecter,” Brian started, and Hannibal sighed.

“Hannibal is fine. You have attended a dinner party at my home, and you are close to Will, I believe formalities are no longer needed.”

“...Hannibal, then. What can I do for you?” He sounded nervous, and Hannibal liked it.

“I was looking for Beverly. I tried Jack directly, but he did not answer. His cell phone also goes directly to voice mail.”

“Jack’s not in. Bella was hospitalized last night. And...Beverly didn’t show up this morning. We called her but we couldn’t get a hold of her.” He paused, then, “I wanted to go check on her, but we’ve got the media swarming in for statements. Looks like everyone has figured out that it’s a strange coincidence to have two crime scenes so close together. We’re stalling, but Jimmy and I aren't really the press type, and we;re trying to figure out what we can say to get them out of here.”

Hannibal nodded.

“I am going to go check on her, Brian. I will bring her to you as soon as possible. Remind the media that they are to go directly through Jack Crawford for a statement, and have them leave messages at his desk. Do not speak to them yet.”

Brian seemed relieved when he answered, “I think those are doctor’s orders I can listen to.”

*

Hannibal pulled up to Alana’s home shortly after the call, noticing that Beverly’s car was still there. He made his way to the door, trying it and finding it locked. He knocked, waited, heard the patter of paws, and knew Applesauce stood at the other side of the door, waiting.

After a moment, when he received no answer, he tried Beverly’s cell phone. When there was nothing, he had made his mind up, and walked off the porch, around to one of Alana’s living room windows. He gripped it, trying to lift it- and, as he had expected, found that it moved after a moment with ease. He remembered, over the summer, Alana complaining that the lock on one had broken. After the confusion of Beverly’s shooting, it seemed it had slipped her mind to have it fixed properly. Hannibal was glad for that.

He gave it a moment to make sure it would stay up, then grabbed the sill, hoisting himself up with a small grunt and partially inside. The bulk of his coat, acting a heavy layer over his suit, left him less-then agile, and he was rather glad that Beverly hadn’t been sleeping in the living room, as his tumble into it was in no way graceful. There was a _thud_ when he landed on the floor, only tamed by his nearly iron grip on the window. He sat there for a moment, before suddenly there was a rush of fur, and Applesauce was pushing between his legs, nosing at him happily.

He huffed, reminding himself that Beverly was a friend to Will, and oh, what he did for love, as he gave Applesauce a quick pat, and then stood, an ache in his hip and butt from the fall. He closed the window, made his way to the front door, and unlocked it, allowing Applesauce to run outside. Then, he stripped of his coat and shoes, trusting her to behave and not run beyond the lawn, he turned and made his way up the stairs.

He found the master bedroom door open, and inside, sprawled out on the bed, Beverly. Unharmed, breathing slowly.

Hannibal took a step inside, noting that there were papers all over the room, one of which boasted the face of the latest victim, with her skinless nose and cheeks. Silently, he crept towards the bed, sitting on it and reaching out for Beverly, placing a hand between hr shoulder blades.

“Beverly,” he said, calm but not in a whisper, and she stirred, pressing her face more into her pillow for a moment. Then, a moment later, turning her head and staring at him with wide, dark eyes.

“Uh, Hannibal.” She glanced around the room, then back at him. “What’s going on?”

“You’ve left quite a few people worried about you.”

“What time is it?” Hannibal pulled his hand off her, pulling back his sleeve to check his watch.

“Past eleven.”

“Fucking hell!” She shot up, nearly tumbling from the bed, glancing around. “Jesus Christ how did I sleep that late? I have to get to the lab. Oh shit. Jack is going to hang me.”

“Jack is not there,” Hannibal offered, watching her spring to a closet, throwing it open and tugging at clothing quickly. “I spoke with Brian this morning.”

“You...what?” She turned, holding a shirt in one hand limply.

“Alana called me. She tried to call you this morning but you did not answer. I called Jack directly, but could not get a hold of him. So, I called the lab, and spoke with Brian. He confirmed you had not been in, so I came to check on you.”

“Shit, everyone’s worried now.” Beverly dropped her shirt, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. “Sorry, I just...I can’t sleep. I’m running on empty. I must have finally passed out, and slept through my alarm.”

Hannibal stood, glancing at the phone on the bedside table. “It appears your battery is dead. It may have never gone off.”

“Bloody fucking hell.” Hannibal walked over to her, stooping down to pick up her shirt and hand it to her.

“I am going to go downstairs and let Applesauce back inside. Get dressed, and we will get some coffee, then I will take you to the lab.” He reached out, squeezed her shoulder. “The media is there, and it seems without Jack everyone is floundering. We’ll help them sort everything out, and then the day will go one as if it started without a hitch.”

“Don’t you have things you have to do?”

“I had a session with morning with Dr. Du Maurier. I have no patients until this evening. If I must, I can reschedule them. Now, look presentable, you may need to be in front of a camera.”

*

Beverly thought to argue again with Hannibal that he didn’t need to take her to the lab- or buy her coffee, or even be doing anything more then letting Applesauce in the house and leaving. But she had found herself unable, and sat in the Bentley, in a seat Will often inhabited, sipping at coffee that was more expensive then her usual taste- and she was sure far below Hannibal’s- with her phone sitting on her lab, charging. Outside, the grey winter sky looked heavy, threatened again snow. As it had been.

Empty threats. Nothing more, she hoped.

They walked into the lab, Beverly just slightly in front of Hannibal, and someone must have quickly alerted Brian and Jimmy, because the two appeared before Beverly had even gotten to take her coat off.

“Thank god,” Jimmy said, “Beverly, it’s a cluster out there. The media left messages for Jack, but a few are hanging on. Demanding a briefing on your case.”

“We can’t get a hold of Jack at all,” Brian admitted, glancing at the two.

“Then we’ll just have to handle this ourselves.” Beverly took a sip of her coffee, and glanced at Hannibal. “How comfortable are you in front of a camera.”

Hannibal smiled, shrugging his own coat off. “Quite comfortable, Agent Katz.”

*

Beverly sat next to Hannibal, offering a rehearsed smile to the few reporters who had remained. “We won’t be fielding questions at this time,” she stated, her hands calmly folded on the table. “Simply offering a quick statement. Every minute I’m here I’m away from the case.” She waited a moment, then, “As of right now, I can officially state that yes, there is a tie in the murders that have arisen over the past few days. I know rumor has speculated. We also have an older case we believe may be connected as well.” She glanced around the room, watching everyone taking notes, despite a few cameras rolling. Near the front, glancing from notebook back up to Beverly, sat Freddie Lounds. She couldn’t even be shocked- she ahd expected her there, and to be one of the few who had remained.

“I am heading this case,” Beverly continued, “and in the absence of Will Graham, I have asked Dr. Lecter to assist me in the profiling.” She glanced at Hannibal, who smiled, but remained silent. “I am sure that, given the fantastic team I have to work with, we will have this case closed very shortly. Further details will be released upon another review. Now, if you’ll excuse me-“

“Agent Katz!” Freddie Lounds was standing now, pen gripped tightly in hand. “Is it true that the victim’s have been found partially mutilated?”

The question had the room suddenly erupting in questions, voices, and Beverly groaned quietly. She stood up, yelling to get everyone's attention.

“The victims have all had some sort of minor mutilation, yes,” she admitted- then, as an after thought, “their eyes were removed.” The room erupted again, and she held her hands up. “I will answer no questions at this time. You will have to wait for the release of any further details. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I cannot solve this case if I’m sitting here.”

Beverly turned, walking away from the crowd, Hannibal following closely behind her. Once they had left the room, were back inside one where fresh coffee sat waiting, Beverly leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.

“Sometimes I want to gut Freddie Lounds.”

Hannibal sat down at a small table, reaching for his coffee and simply wrapping his hands around it. “Will has voiced similar desires. Perhaps it can be a group activity.”

Beverly gave a dry laugh. “With his help, we’d probably never get caught either.” She opened her eyes, glanced at Hannibal, who was steadily watching her. His face had gone serious.

“No. You would not.”

Beverly swallowed then, feeling her stomach tightening. For a brief moment, something seemed monstrous in that room, as if Hannibal had grown ten times his size, as if he had gone black as ash. Her heart sped up a beat, two, three, she felt it against her ribs. Her skin felt a size too small.

She wanted to respond, to chase the beast away, to laugh- but a part of her heard Will in her head, _I’m better than you_ , and she wanted to grab onto the monster and see it. Something wasn’t right.

But was something actually wrong?

Her thoughts were chased away when the door opened, Brian filing in quickly, glancing at her. His eyes seemed tired, and she wondered if anyone in the lab had been sleeping at all.

“Bev...there’s another one.” She stared at him, then gave him a nod, and he slipped back out of the room. She glanced back at Hannibal, who had stood up now, was advancing on her- slowly, shrinking down from the beast that had seemed to fill the room a moment earlier, back to the doctor she respected- lover to her friend, friend to her lover-

Back to the only person she had to turn to.

“I’ll cancel my appointments,” he offered, stopping close, not touching- but caging her in. “Unless you would like to look alone.”

“No,” she whispered, knowing if she closed her eyes in that moment, she’d have her hands around a girl’s throat- she’d feel the life draining from her, she’d taste it. “No.”

If she looked alone, Beverly was afraid that she wouldn’t look away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, my return...is Hannibal tumbling through a window. Great start.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No windows to tumble through this time. Sadly.

Beverly had her hand pressed over her mouth, fingers flexing against her cheek, as she stared down at the body which had been left on the rough pavement of the road. No show this time, the girl was naked as before, a flower laying near the body- as if it had been thrown down as a last-minute thought. Her arm was left up, above her head, as if she had been dragged-

It partially hid the mess that was her scalp.

Beverly muttered something, and realized her hand was impeding her speech. She pulled it away, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Find it,” she stated, and one of the agents next to her turned, motioned her hand and was moving away.

On Beverly’s other side, Hannibal stood, adjusting his latex gloves. He crouched down, carefully moving the girl’s arm to expose her scalp.

“This was an amateur job,” he commented, examining the uneven slices that had removed her flesh and hair. “Done in haste.”

“He’s spooked. Or agitated.” She crouched down as well, glancing along her body. Without much thought, she reached for her face, pulling back at one of her eyelids, expecting to find an empty hole.

Instead, a hazel eye stared back at her.

“Shit,” she muttered, standing up. “Brian! Get over here- yes bring the camera.” She waved, and he ran, leaving Jimmy behind, puffing for air by the time he reached her. “Her eyes are in tact.”

“Dammit.” He glanced down at the one now-open eye. “Does that mean it’s not our guy?”

“Not necessarily,” Hannibal offered, standing up and stepping back to assure he was not in Brian’s shot. “You will need to compare her with the other girls. She appears to fit his profile, does she not?”

“No, she does,” Beverly offered. Brian nodded, after the clicks in his camera had silenced, and hurried back away from them.

“You’re thinking,” Hannibal offered, walking towards Beverly, taking up the space behind her left shoulder. “Talk to me.”

A simple request that felt like an order, and Beverly was opening her mouth out of choice and obligation, an elixir that she didn’t understand.

“He was taking their eyes because they didn’t fit his ideal. That means these do. We can piece together a description of his real target now.” She paused, then added, “Which also means this girl wasn’t blonde. Look, her eyebrows are dark. He must have been desperate to get her, to steer so far away.”

“Was it so far?” Hannibal was whispering, his breath was the only warm thing in the air. One of his hands had found her side, rested there gently. “Close your eyes, and talk me through this Beverly.”

“I’m not Will,” she said, glancing back. “Whatever I give you, it’s probably wrong.”

“Offer it none-the-less.”

Beverly looked back at the body, closing her eyes. She couldn’t materialize any sort of place, everything was simply the thick, velvet black of nightmares, the only thing she could ever imagine this happening against. The girl’s face had features, unlike in her dreams, but her hair, it was simply a transparent wavering, it could have been any shade of brown like her eyebrows, any length, any style. Beverly couldn’t place it.

“I don’t know what lie I’ve told the others,” she whispered, “but...but I don’t tell this one. I don’t waste time, my hands go around her throat and I try to imagine that this is her. This is _my girl_.” At her sides, her hands fisted, fingernails pressing into her palms. “The others I gave time. This one though...she is too far from the truth. The only saving grace...are her eyes...”

Beverly stared into those hazel eyes, drowning in them. There were hands on her waist now, holding her, and Hannibal’s voice filling her head,

“How does it feel when she dies?”

“Good. A relief.” Those eyes rolled back, and suddenly the body was going limp, heavy. Beverly let go, letting it fall away, looking down at her hands, at their shape. Could they really fit around a throat? Could they really squeeze so tight?

_Could it really feel so good?_

“And how do you feel?”

Beverly licked her lips, her belly tight but warm, a strange heaviness that was almost comforting. “Complete.” There was a moment, and then her hands were moving up, covering Hannibal’s and gripping- hesitating for just a moment- and then pulling them off her waist, away from her body. “I’m not Will,” she whispered again, turning and glancing at him over her shoulder, feeling like he was too close, like he was inside her, unzipping her skin and trying to climb in and already half way there.

“You could be.”

Her spine went cold, and as she moved, Beverly swore she felt each bone grinding together. She turned to stare at Hannibal, up at those dark eyes, and he was ten-times the size of a man, dark as nightmares and horned and Beverly quaked. She was seeing it again, whatever he had become before they had left the lab-

And then it was gone, and he merely looked concerned. He reached out a hand for her, offering but not touching. “You look pale Beverly.”

“I...it’s just-“ she stuttered, then bit her tongue, forcing a deep breath through her nostrils. “This is just a lot. I just need a minute. I’ll...I’ll be right back.”

She brushed past Hannibal, walking briskly away from the body, from the flashing lights and the movement, down the road. She fumbled in her pocket as she walked, pulling out her phone and holding it up to her face as the line rang, almost whispering a prayer to herself and no one else that it would be answered.

“Beverly!” came a moment before the voice mail kicked in, and before she could respond, “Goddamn, I was worried. You never returned my call, or my text. God I had to call _Hannibal_.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, slowing her face. “Sorry. It’s been...rough.”

“The case?” Beverly was quiet for a moment, and Alana waited barely a breath. “Bev, what’s going on?”

“I...I don’t know.” She ran a hand through her hair, tangling at the ends, tugging as if she needed the pain to wake her up. “Everything just doesn’t seem right.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at a scene. Another body.”

“Where’s Hannibal? Is he there? If you don’t feel right go find-“

“No!” Beverly stopped moving all together, barely breathing. Alana went silent as death. “No. ‘Lana...do you ever think something is...wrong with Hannibal?”

There was some silence, and then Alana was laughing- it was rich and warm, but Beverly felt like there was a needle wrapped in the fire. “Wrong with Hannibal Lecter? Bev are you hearing yourself? You really haven’t been sleeping. Look, take a deep breath and keep close to him. He’s grounding.” Beverly heard some muffling, and then Alana again, “Baby I have to go, it’s my turn to lecture- but Will just got back here and you piqued his interest. I’m putting him on. Take care of yourself.”

Beverly didn’t get to respond, simply heard Will, all too calm, “Beverly.”

Alana hadn’t believed her. “Will.”

“Is Hannibal alright?”

“Uhm, yeah. He’s...he’s fine. I’m the one that’s not in great shape.”

“But you think something is wrong with him?” Beverly hesitated, wanted to scream that she didn’t know, wasn’t sure, but things didn’t feel right. No one should be able to crawl in her skin like that. No one should be able to pull the nerves from her body and hold them, clutch them, squeeze and wring them as he so pleased.

“I don’t know. Will...he’s your partner...I can’t-“

“You sound nervous. He was in your head, wasn’t he?” She didn’t respond, only bit her lip, her free hand flexing. It seemed to be all Will needed. “He won’t ever hurt you, Beverly. Just remember that.”

“I didn’t say-“

“I know you didn’t. But you will think it, someday. Maybe not now. You might move on from this and not think about it for months. But whenever it finally comes back, just remember Bev- he won’t hurt you. And neither will I.”

“Will-“

“We love you too much for that.” He paused for a moment, then, “I have to go now Beverly. We’ll talk soon. When I’m home.”

The line went dead, and Beverly stood there, holding the phone in her hand, unsure if she had actually woken up that morning.

*

Hannibal had watched Beverly walk away, colorless, and considered perhaps he had pressed too far too quickly. A moment later and he brushed that thought off though. Her mental standing was firmer then Will’s, she could handle his pushes without having a break.

He didn’t want to see her break. No, truth be told, he was quite fond of Beverly Katz now. She might be the love of his best friend’s life, and the best friend to his own love, but she herself had potential, and he found joy in her company. And he sensed something in her, not the willingness of his Will no, but an _acceptance_ of things.

She had, after all, lied for Will.

When she returned, she glanced at him, but didn’t speak. She simply walked past him, towards her team, and Hannibal did not press her. He instead took to glancing down at the body, walking a slow circle around her. This killer was tasteless, and really he thought quite dull. These crimes were so saturated with hate that it could make Hannibal nauseous. If he hadn’t been so bored without Will, if he hadn’t promised to keep his own work stilled until his beloved returned, he would want no part of this case.

Well, perhaps a small part. He’d want Beverly and that was all.

There was a call from down off the road, by the trees that lined it, and everyone was turning. One agent was waving her hands frantically, and the team moved over quickly, most running. Hannibal walked, calmly, hands in his pockets against the cold. The group parted for him as he slipped past them, a silent and automatic respect which he did enjoy.

If he was shocked to find Beverly at the center, he would never show it. But no shock could come from it- she was talented, intelligent- like Will.

“What is it?” he asked, unable to see past her. She turned, her mouth set in a firm straight line- her eyes a mix of grim seriousness but yet a shine of glee.

“Her scalp.” Hannibal peered past her as a camera flashed, the agents documenting the find, and stared at the bloody mess of flesh and thickly curled blonde hair. Towards the flesh, Hannibal could see the traces of dark roots. He leaned back so Beverly could stand, turning to him, excitement now evident on her face. “If he was careless enough to leave this, maybe he left some prints. DNA. Something.”

He brushed past Hannibal and he followed, feeling a new energy on in, intrigued by it.

“Plus it completes her image. The other girls- they were natural blondes. She was a bottle, and think about it- her hair had more curl to it. I know we can’t expect every girl to be an exact replica of the last, but this is the furthest from the other girls he’s come, I think.” They had hit the pavement, and she stopped, stood for a moment- and then took off in a run, towards the body of their scalpless victim- currently being zipped into a body bag.

Far too intrigued not to let it go, Hannibal jogged after her, catching her waving off the agents who were closing the bag, so that Beverly could look at the girl’s face. When Hannibal reached her, she didn’t turn to him, but spoke as she studied the victim.

“Look at her, and tell me what’s different.”

Hannibal pursed his lips, glancing at her. “We have discussed that he left her eyes.”

“But compared to the last girl.”

“He did not skin her face.” Beverly was nodding. “So whatever we are missing from your Jane Doe will contrast what you have in this face- as in the prior victim. What do you think he took away from her, Beverly?”

“Freckles.” She turned to him, staring up, smiling. “Neither girl had them. What else is there? I bet if I examine her body, I’ll find more.” She turned back to the body, zipping up the body bag. “I’m going to go back to the lab with the body. I want to be there when they examine her. And get a glance in at the last victim. Maybe they’ll have an ID for me.” When she glanced back again, her eyes had calmed- but whatever fear Hannibal had instilled in her earlier seemed to have faded. “Can I call you with any updates?”

“I would be saddened if you did not.” The two smiled at each other, and yes, Hannibal was quite sure he enjoyed her company.

*

What he did not enjoy, however, was the emptiness of his home.

He had called his appointments that he had canceled and seen two later, so now the home he walked into was dark, and colder then he had wished. He let the dogs out, turned the heat up, and contemplated what he should do for dinner- which was becoming a very lonely affair, one he had once enjoyed in solitude but was now tainted by Will’s absence. How dependent, he had become. And so quickly.

Were it to anyone except Will, he might be sickened by himself.

Once the dogs were back inside and comfortable, he stripped of his coat, jacket- even his waist coat and tie, and set to preparing a light dinner. He fell into it easily, set music to playing sweetly through the house, and almost missed the sound of his phone buzzing on the counter.

He considered ignoring it, thought it was most likely Beverly, but then curiosity piqued and oh, perhaps she had a _lovely_ story to tell him, not so much about the case but her feelings on it- the pictures she could paint behind her eyes. Not to Will’s details, but still- she offered stories he was willing to listen to.

“Hello?” he answered, not looking at the name on the phone.

“What game are you playing with Beverly?” Will’s voice had not been what he expected- and for a moment, his heart stilled in its cage, before it began to beat anew, frantic and excited.

“Will,” he breathed, smiling to himself, “I hadn’t expected to hear-“

“Answer my question, Hannibal.” Will’s voice was calm, but the seriousness of it cut the air like a knife, and Hannibal’s excitement began to still, his smile fading.

“I play only a game she will enjoy, Will. She is in no danger.”

“She’s not me, Hannibal. You might put yourself in danger.” Hannibal set down his knife at this, turning away from the food he had been preparing and leaning against the counter.

“You think she sees us as clearly as we see her?”

“No.” Will exhaled. “Not quite. But if you push too hard, she will push back. I know Beverly.”

“Then you know she loves you too much to betray you. She lied for you, dear Will. She protected you when you shot that man.” Hannibal tapped his fingers under the lip of the counter. “She would protect you again. She understands Will, the joy you found in killing him. She may not see the beauty in what _I_ do- but she can understand some of what you have done.”

“Just be careful, Hannibal.” Will spoke in a whisper, and Hannibal wondered where he was- and where was Alana. “If Beverly is going to see anything, she needs to get their on her own. You can’t push.”

“And what if that push were all it took? She is your dearest friend, darling. Would you not like to have Beverly look at you and truly see you? Understand what was inside your head when you pulled that trigger? Understand what it’s like to turn a wasted existence into something meaningful?” Will said nothing for a moment, and Hannibal knew he would be mulling the words over instead of sleeping that night.

“When I’m home, we’ll discuss this. But understand one thing Hannibal- you do _not_ hurt Beverly.”

“My darling, I wouldn’t dream of it. She’s far too intriguing- and I do find quite some enjoyment in her company. She is not you, but she has made these past few days far more bearable.”

Now when Will spoke, Hannibal knew there was a smile in his voice- and their conversion was over, a thing of the past now. “Well I miss you too darlin’.” Will’s accent slipped into his words, and Hannibal’s heart did a fluttering-thing within his chest he was sure was meant for adolescences only.

*

Beverly tapped her file against the table, staring off at the shadows on the wall. Her coffee had long since gone cold in her mug, while she waited for her reports to come back. They had found abrasions along the girl’s legs and back, like she had been dragged along the pavement for some time. Close inspection had shown some dirt smudges that Beverly had thought were odd- they yielded no finger prints, but she had had a strange feeling, something that needed to be resolved.

The door opened and one of the lab techs walked in, offering Beverly a smile and handing her some papers. Beverly thanked her, turning to them and glancing over them, getting the breakdown of the soil that had been smudged on her body-

And that it matched a nutrient rich soil sold by the exact floral shop she had visited already.

Beverly grinned and jumped up, grabbing her phone. Her first call was for the warrant she would need to search the shop again- and once granted, her second to Hannibal.

His voice on the other end was warm and calm, and Beverly worried, as she walked through the halls of the lab, that she was disturbing him. It was later then she realized.

“Hannibal, I’m sorry it’s so late, but this is big. Listen, our killer is definitely connected to that floral shop.” As Beverly spoke, she barely remembered to breathe, quickly glazing over the details of the body and what she had found. Hannibal hadn’t gotten a word in when she finally concluded, “I’m going back. I have a warrant. If someone is there I can at least get a look around. I’ll go alone- but I would appreciate your company.”

Hannibal was quiet for a moment, then, “I will meet you there. Wait for me.” He ended the call without another word as Beverly pushed out of the lab, the cold air hitting her, rushing through her shirt and skin and to her bones. Her coat was clutched with her files, under one arm, barely held on, and she was trying to stuff her phone into her pocket when a voice cut through the air.

“You’re in a bit of a rush, Agent Katz.” Beverly glanced up, saw Freddie Lounds leaning against her car, watching from a few yards away.

“I have nothing to say to you, Freddie,” she pointed out, hating that she had to walk past the woman to her own car, a parked a few past. As she approached, Freddie’s eyes followed her, until she was past and then the red head was pushing herself off her car and following.

“You can say something, or I can dig, Agent Katz. Either way, I’m going to have something to publish.” Beverly stopped, heaving a sigh, then glancing back at Freddie, who had stopped only a step behind her.

“I never thanked you for forcing me to discuss the victims’ mutilations to the press.” She offered no smile, and Freddie offered none back.

“The public has a right to know.”

“You don’t give a shit about the public.” Beverly started walking again, making it to her car and fumbling for her keys. She tossed everything, her coat included, into her back seat. Then, gripping the door, turned to face the journalist. “You couldn’t care less about whether or not your stories are helping them or saving lies. You just want a story to tell, your name under the headline- you’re looking to glorify yourself and nothing more.” Beverly took a step away from her car, slamming the door as she moved, closing in on Freddie, who was forced to take a single step back. “Some of us actually want to find these sickos and lock them up.”

“If you’re so concerned about the public,” Freddie pointed out, “then why are you so willing to let your friend Graham walk free?”

“Will has done nothing wrong.”

“Will Graham has killed multiple people. And don’t pull that line-of-duty bullshit on me, either. I don’t care what stories anyone has been fed- Will Graham is unstable.”

“Will Graham saves lives.” Beverly squared her shoulders, leaning into Freddie almost intimately. “And Will is my friend. I trust him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.” She turned on her heel, hurrying back to her car and starting the engine, pulling away from the journalist and the lab as quickly as possible. She was hoping she would catch someone still at the shop- someone who could let her in so she could have a look around.

If not, she wasn’t afraid of poking around in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal, you should watch who you push, and just how hard. They might push back...or end up being more perfect then you even imagined.


End file.
